


Dawn

by thedevilchicken



Category: Black Hawk Down (2001)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-24
Updated: 2002-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4177482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt has something on his mind. Hoot finds a way to remind him why they're there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal on 24 August 2002.

Wednesday night came and the base was almost silent; there was the thin whistle of the wind between the old airport hangars and somewhere not too far off the engine of a jeep spluttered into life before driving away. Staff Sergeant Matt Eversmann lay awake in his bunk, listening. The wind sounded almost like breathing, and it kept him far from sleep. 

He couldn’t stand the quiet. It crawled in his head and made him uneasy, like any second he’d wake up from that unnatural stillness to find himself back there in that building, his fingers pressed down inside Jamie’s bloody thigh, raking at his flesh, scrabbling for the torn artery as the shots rang out loud in the street. He could still hear Jamie’s ragged breathing. When he closed his eyes it was all he could hear. 

The barracks seemed so empty. When he looked around in the thin half-light Matt realised they were. There were so many empty bunks. He shivered and closed his eyes. That just wasn’t something he could think about. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He’d rather just lie there and listen to the whistle of the wind. 

As he pulled his blanket closer around his shoulders, he thought he heard something, but dismissed it quickly. Then he heard it again, the soft click of military boots against the concrete, light footsteps coming closer. He lay still and held his breath as he listened, almost able to persuade himself that it was all in his head until the footsteps got louder. He glanced at his wristwatch with a frown, finding it was almost 4am. As far as he knew, all the enlisted Rangers were in their bunks, fast asleep. 

Then the footsteps stopped. Matt turned his head and scanned the dark – in the pale light all he saw were the other bunks, so quietly he slipped from his bed and barefoot he padded to the far wall, beside Jamie’s empty bunk. He looked around, scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary, beside the empty bunks, and saw nothing.

He sighed. He must have imagined it. It wouldn’t have been the first time his mind had played tricks on him since his transfer in from the States, or since his last trip to Mogadishu. What he needed was sleep. He’d feel better in the morning. He had to. 

He walked back toward his bunk; the warm wind blowing through the open door felt so good on his skin that he changed his mind and headed into it, leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms over his chest. Standing there in just his boxer shorts and tank top felt slightly weird but he smiled and ran his fingers over his dogtags as he looked out over the dimly-lit base. The desert rose up just past the runway and stretched out for miles, as far as the eye could see. It was relaxing, almost comforting, gazing out across it, into the miles of sand that stood between them and the city, even if he’d never felt so far from home. 

The hand pressed over his mouth caught him off guard and before he could react he’d been pulled outside and pushed up against the wall, his arm twisted up behind his back. Mentally he cursed himself as his heart hammered hard in his chest. 

“Jus’ didn’t want you making a racket,” a voice said, hot beside his ear. The hand left his mouth and he sighed. 

“Hoot.” 

He turned around and Sergeant First Class Gibson smirked at him. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, his voice low. “C’mon, there’s something I wanna show you.” Hoot tossed him his boots. “And you might want these”. 

Matt frowned but pulled on his boots and walked after him anyway. 

He followed, hanging back just short of his left shoulder as they moved out over the open yards, nodding to the sentries as they passed the gates, till Hoot finally stopped walking and dropped down to his knees in the sand. He turned and sat down there, looking up at Matt expectantly; he dropped down beside him, brushing the loose sand from his bare knees. 

“So what was it you wanted to show me?” Matt asked, glancing over at Hoot from the corner of his eye. 

“Shhh,” he said. “Just watch.” 

Matt had no idea what he was watching. He followed Hoot’s gaze but all he could see was the base, all the hangars and the occasional Humvee, the Black Hawks sitting over on the pads, the tower… He’d seen it all before. But Hoot seemed to be waiting for something – he glanced down at his watch a couple of times, then looked back up at the base in front of them. But what exactly it was that he was waiting for Matt couldn’t guess. 

The base was still quiet. Aside from the sentries and perhaps a couple of command personnel they were probably the only people awake then, and definitely the only people sitting there in the sand a couple of hundred metres outside of the gates. The wind had died down to a warm flicker that licked at his shoulders and he felt the stray sand in his hair when he reached up to run his hands through it. Everything was so peaceful it was unreal. 

Then, while he was watching, dawn came. Slowly, the hot African sun rose behind the hangars and burned the runway orange. Hoot slipped on his Oakleys and Matt lifted a hand to shade his eyes as they sat and watched in silence. 

“I see you sitting there blaming yourself,” Hoot said suddenly, breaking that eerie silence with his voice. Matt turned to him, but Hoot just kept right on looking, staring into the sun. Matt looked back too. “But you did all you could back there, Ev. You did your best with what they gave you and there ain’t no shame in that. You saved lives. You did your job.” 

Tears stung in his eyes and he tried to tell himself that it was just the sun, or the sand in his eyes. But Hoot was right – he blamed himself to Jamie, for not getting to the crash site faster, for Blackburn falling, maybe even for the whole damn mess. But Hoot was right. 

“Just let it go, man,” he said. 

He had to let it go. 

He felt the warm fingers on the back of his neck and turned to see Hoot looking at him, Oakleys back in his pocket. “Just let it go.” 

Hoot smiled, a small, sad smile, and Matt did his best to return it; he felt tears sting his eyes and threaten to fall and in a second he was pulling at Hoot’s collar, tugging himself into his arms. Hoot held him unquestioningly, as if he knew exactly what he needed. Perhaps he did. 

Matt lifted his head and looked Hoot dead in the eye in the sunrise. Then he kissed him. He just leant forward and pressed his lips to Hoot’s, then drew back, opening his eyes, an embarrassed flush creeping up over his neck. He kept on inventing new and interesting ways to fuck up.

When Hoot kissed him it was with nothing like the same amount of hesitancy. He took hold of the back of Matt’s neck and pulled him in hard, crushing him against him, pressing his lips with almost bruising force; Matt felt an arm go about his waist and yank him in closer as his tongue swept into his mouth. It was brutal and passionate, heated, tasting of desert and morning sun; it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, sent a jolt straight down through his stomach and into his crotch. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so much passion. It was intoxicating, blinding. He guessed he wasn't the only one that needed. 

Then Hoot drew back, leaving them both breathless. He settled himself back down in the sand and tugged Matt closer till their shoulders touched. 

It was then that Matt realised what he’d been brought there to see. At the top of the tower a figure appeared, and it raised the flag; it fluttered in the breeze atop the pole, burnished gold at its edges by the brilliant dawn sun. Matt smiled. 

“Thanks, Hoot,” he said. “Thanks.” 

Hoot’s only reply was that same small, sad smile.


End file.
